There was a student, who lived in the garret and didn't
own anything. There was also a grocer, who kept shop on the
ground floor and owned the whole house. The household goblin
stuck to the grocer, because every Christmas Eve it was the
grocer who could afford him a bowl of porridge with a big pat of
butter in it. So the goblin stayed in the grocery shop, and that
was very educational.

One evening the student came in by the back door to buy some
candles and cheese. He had no one to send, and that's why
he came himself. He got what he came for, paid for it, and the
grocer and his wife nodded, "Good evening." There was a woman who
could do more than just nod, for she had an unusual gift of
speech. The student nodded too, but while he was reading
something on the piece of paper which was wrapped around his
cheese, he suddenly stopped. It was a page torn out of an old
book that ought never to have been put to this purpose, an old
book full of poetry.

"There's more of it," the grocer told him. "I gave an
old woman a few coffee beans for it. If you will give me eight
pennies, you shall have the rest."

"If you please," said the student, "let me have the book
instead of the cheese. There's no harm in my having plain
bread and butter for supper, but it would be sinful to tear the
book to pieces. You're a fine man, a practical man, but you
know no more about poetry than that tub does."

Now this was a rude way to talk, especially to the tub. The
grocer laughed and the student laughed. After all, it was said
only as a joke, but the goblin was angry that anyone should dare
say such a thing to a grocer, a man who owned the whole house, a
man who sold the best butter.

That night, when the shop was shut and everyone in bed
except the student, the goblin borrowed the long tongue of the
grocer's wife, who had no use for it while she slept. And
any object on which he laid this tongue became as glib a
chatterbox as the grocer's wife herself. Only one object
could use the tongue at a time, and that was a blessing, for
otherwise they would all have spoken at once. First the goblin
laid the tongue on the tub in which old newspapers were kept.

"Of course, I know all about poetry," said the tub.
"It's the stuff they stick at the end of a newspaper column
when they've nothing better to print, and which is
sometimes cut out. I dare say I've got more poetry in me
than the student has, and I'm only a small tub compared to
the grocer."

Then the goblin put the tongue on the coffee mill-how it did
chatter away. He put it on the butter-cask and on the cash-box,
he put it on everything around the shop, until it was back upon
the tub again. To the same question everyone gave the same answer
as the tub, and the opinion of the majority must be
respected.

"Oh, won't I light into that student," said the
goblin, as he tiptoed up the back stairs to the garret where the
student lived. A candle still burned there, and by peeping
through the keyhole the goblin could see that the student was
reading the tattered old book he had brought upstairs with
him.

But how bright the room was! From the book a clear shaft of
light rose, expanding into a stem and a tremendous tree which
spread its branching rays above the student. Each leaf on the
tree was evergreen, and every flower was the face of a fair lady,
some with dark and sparkling eyes, some with eyes of the clearest
blue. Every fruit on the tree shone like a star, and the room was
filled with song.

Never before had the little goblin imagined such splendor.
Never before had he seen or heard anything like it. He stood
there on tiptoe, peeping and peering till the light went out. But
even after the student blew out his lamp and went to bed, the
little fellow stayed to listen outside the door. For the song
went on, soft but still more splendid, a beautiful cradle song
lulling the student to sleep.

"No place can compare with this," the goblin exclaimed. "I
never expected it. I've a good notion to come and live with
the student." But he stopped to think, and he reasoned, and he
weighed it, and he sighed, "The student has no porridge to give
me."

So he tiptoed away, back to the shop, and high time too. The
tub had almost worn out the tongue of the grocer's wife.
All that was right-side-up in the tub had been said, and it was
just turning over to say all the rest that was in it, when the
goblin got back and returned the tongue to its rightful owner.
But forever afterward the whole shop, from the cash-box right
down to the kindling wood, took all their ideas from the tub.
Their respect for it was so great and their confidence so
complete that, whenever the grocer read the art and theatrical
reviews in the evening paper, they all thought the opinions came
out of the tub.

But the little goblin was no longer content to sit listening
to all the knowledge and wisdom down there. No! as soon as the
light shone again in the garret, he felt as if a great anchor
rope drew him up there to peep through the keyhole. And he felt
the great feeling that we feel when watching the ever-rolling
ocean as a storm passes over it. And he started to cry, for no
reason that he knew, but these were tears that left him strong
and glad. How glorious it would be to sit with the student under
the tree of light! He couldn't do that. He was content with
the keyhole. There he stood on the cold landing, with wintry
blasts blowing full upon him from the trapdoor to the roof. It
was cold, so cold, but the little fellow didn't feel it
until the light went out and the song gave way to the whistle of
the wind. Ugh! he shivered and shook as he crept down to his own
corner, where it was warm and snug. And when Christmas came
round-when he saw that bowl of porridge and the big pat of butter
in it-why then it was the grocer whose goblin he was.

But one midnight, the goblin was awakened by a hullabaloo of
banging on the shutters. People outside knocked their hardest on
the windows, and the watchman blasted away on his horn, for there
was a house on fire. The whole street was red in the light of it.
Was it the grocer's house? Was it the next house? Where?
Everybody was terrified! The grocer's wife was so panicky
that she took off her gold earrings and put them in her pocket to
save them. The grocer ran to get his stocks and bonds, and the
servant for the silk mantilla she had scrimped so hard to buy.
Everyone wanted to rescue what he treasured most, and so did the
little goblin. With a leap and a bound he was upstairs and into
the garret. The student stood calmly at his window, watching the
fire which was in the neighbor's house. The goblin snatched the
wonderful book from the table, tucked it in his red cap, and held
it high in both hands. The treasure of the house was saved! Off
to the roof he ran. Up to the top of the chimney he jumped. There
he sat, in the light of the burning house across the street,
clutching with both hands the cap which held his treasure.

Now he knew for certain to which master his heart belonged.
But when they put the fire out, and he had time to think about
it, he wasn't so sure.

"I'll simply have to divide myself between them," he
decided. "I can't give up the grocer, because of my
porridge."

And this was all quite human. Off to the grocer all of us go
for our porridge.